Shirosaki Kizuro:Unless it's explicitly said Menma ate the soul, any boss could potentially make a comeback.
jjlol: Preeeeetty much. :D
guisniperman: Differences in the timelines, nothing major but that's why she was alive in Solaire's world. That's not much of a spoiler as it doesn't come back into play later.
Silver Crow: Sadly Papa God is getting crispy at this point. But there will be poon, trust in the Raxychaz and he will give unto thee.
Start!
Menma yawned as he sat on the balcony outside of his room, staring at the rising sun as Sif was nestled into her bed inside, "Well Menma...How are you gonna fix this one, eh?" He asked himself, it was probably the best question to start with, did he bother trying to return to his original entry point into this world of just pick up power in the past and drag all these people off to help him whip the madness that was the Shinobi world into shape.
"That'll be interesting." He summoned a small snake and was surprised to see it was a dark purple serpent with black bands on its body, a rather familiar looking creature. "...Manda?" He asked, shocked.
"Who the hell are you? We don't let humans summons us so how'd you manage it?" Oh lovely.
"Son of a bitch..." He facepalmed and shook his head.
Later.
Menma would explain all of it to Manda later, but from the looks of it he not only went back for Lordran but also the Elemental Nations, this was a precarious position to be put in. Thinking back to what Solaire told him he frowned, was time truly so convoluted that it could pull him to and fro in the timeline of multiple dimensions? Now that was quite the feat.
The little crow had continued to flutter about as he walked about the palace, back in his clothes from yesterday as he didn't have a body odour, he didn't sweat or anything of the sort. He wasn't sure if he wa still Undead or not but for the time being it'd probably be best to assume he wasn't.
Menma walked out of the keep and sat upon the steps overlooking the city as he did, "What did I say about needing to be watched." Said Ciaran's voice, Menma chuckled as she sat beside him, "Why did you choose to sit here of all places?"
"It's nice enough, I like looking over everything as well."
"I noticed the presence of Artorias has grown stronger in you." Observed the Assassin.
"I managed to drag a little of it closer to the surface, that's probably why. The only problem is that the poor bastard is mad as a hatter." He informed, well aware of the distaste rising from the woman's form, "Though if nothing else I should be able to put him at ease." She looked at him now, he idly noted the lack of mask, "He's bound to me as is, but at least he won't be tormented by the Dark, ironic isn't it?" He asked rhetorically. He needed no answer, Ciaran sighed out all her tension and slumped forward slightly Menma pat her shoulder, she didn't push him away so that was probably the best result.
"Menma." Said Ciaran, getting a hum of attention. "If you cannot release him, do me a favour. Just consume Artorias, it'd be better than living in the dark. For one of us anyway." Menma nodded.
"I can bind souls to weapons, would you prefer I tried that?" He offered, this would be a good way to get a new toy and also avoid giving up any power.
"I'm rather adverse to you using the soul of one I thought of as kin as a tool, Dark One." Snapped the woman.
"My name is Menma, Ciaran." He bit back, a frostiness she'd not seen yet lacing his words, "I'm more than happy to accommodate the 'Gods' in their quest to fuck with the nature of the planet you all inhabit, but reduce me to something less than a person and I'll start filling the streets with blood." Ciaran was stock stiff as she glared unholy hell at him, "It's not a dick, love. Don't take it too hard." He snickered at her expression.
"I'm kidding you delicate flower, calm down." Menma brushed off the angry stare, his eyes took a serious note though, "The gods abandon this place, it's up to you whether we try to save it or not, Ciaran."
"Quite the burden you place upon her, Darkness." Said the voice of Ornstein, sitting on Menma's other side, minus his own helmet, revealing the plume was in fact his own hair, the man had alabaster pale skin and bright golden eyes, the bloody red hair bright as flame itself in comparison.
"Well then, you can help too. But in my time the gods leave this place there's a number of reasons as to possibly why. So it's up to those of power to do something, to make the world better. I'm not going to have Gwyndolin be alone in that crypt again." He muttered.
"Lady Gwyndolin ends up in a crypt?" Huh, the lack of surprise took him off guard, maybe Ciaran filled him in? Not something outside the realm of possibility.
"Yeah, sitting over an empty coffin all day, dedicated to Gwyn. Cenotaph, that's the word." Menma clicked, pointed and winked at Ornstein who sweatdropped slightly at the animated young man, "Either way it was fuckin' sad. So that'd be nice to avoid, also Priscilla not being in a fucking painting surrounded by murderous Hollows." Now they looked quite confused.
"Guess that means she doesn't exist yet, very hush-hush." Menma felt something prickling at the edges of his senses, "Something big is coming..." He murmured with a narrowed gaze to the sky, looking at the lip of the large mountain that housed the city, a thunderous roar rocked the skies.
"Dragon." Snarled Ornstein, immediately leaving to fetch his equipment, Menma smiled widely and stood to his feet, his shadow expanded slightly as his excitement grew.
"Any particular strategy you wanna implement?" Asked Menma, but he was given only the sight of Ciaran's retreating figure, "That works for me." The lines around his eyes darkened and spread as he pulled on the power of the Dark Soul, a black miasma pooling around his ankles before he leapt into the air, leaving a trail of black smoke that quickly dispersed after leaving direct contact and partially released the power of his amulet, though he coated the draconian wings with darkness and cast a simple Genjutsu to make them appear as crow wings, it'd be themematic if nothing else.
Over the lip of the mountain came a massive black dragon, scales not of stone but of ebony, a single eye that burned an infernal orange in the middle of its skull, its snout was pointed and its body less sleek and more rugged than the awe striking beauty of the Stone Dragon.
Menma smiled as he shot towards the beast, dark trailing after him, his hair whipping as he seemingly startled the beast, with a spin he dove under it and shot back up landing a ferocious opening strike to the stomach, the beast roared twisting in the air to strike at him with its tail, Menma allowed himself to go into freefall for a moment to avoid the strike before opening his wings and flapping back up, "Chaos Fireball!" The blue formed orbs formed in his hands, carpet bombing the dragon with azure flames and red lava, the beast roared as it shot back with a tide of black flames, Menma laughed and seemingly vanished before the strike could find him, becoming a black puff of smoke.
Kalameet blinked at the sudden disappearance of its foe only for a boot to find its jaw, sending it several feet, limp, in the air. Menma pulled on the darkness and created a familiar seal behind him, it was replicated by four black copies of the new Dark Lord.
"Four Violet Flames Formation!" Purple flames created a large rectangular barrier, solid to the touch, Menma landed on the new flooring suspended in the air, his seal standing in place of the required fourth person, with a grin he ran forward, Kalameet speared forth as well ready to gore the smaller entity, Menma's wings expanded in the last few moments as he leapt over the beast and shot it with a powerful strike of lightning, "Raiton: Gian!" The spear of blue lightning struck Kalameet in the shoulder making it stumble, Menma laughed as he landed with a flourish, flipping his hair away smugly.
"I find it pretty funny, the poor saps that'll try to kill you in alternate worlds will have to suffer through whatever bullshit you can pull outta your ass, but I get to just toss you about." Kalameet seemed to take exception to that and used the less space to its advantage, its eye glowed an ominous orange and cast a ray of light that consumed the opposite end of the box, Menma's side.
Menma felt ever one of his senses become more intense, his hearing became far too strong for him to reasonably bare, his skin felt tight and delicate, his clothing felt far too tight and his muscles began to ache. Kalameet released a stream of flames against its foe, Menma actually felt great pain, for some reason Quela wasn't responding like she usually would, perhaps that eye had something to do with it? Either way it was a problem.
Though his mind couldn't really do much thinking at the moment as all he could feel was pain, everything began to become more obscure and blurry, the flames consumed his form, until it ceased. Kalameet reveled in the view of his charred opponent, all that remained was a burnt husk.
In the very center of his being Menma was submerged in the dark lake, his breathing calm and his face serene, the dark lake was perfect, it felt wonderful, every inch of it was like a lovers gentle touch, he took a breath and dunked himself in it, if nothing else it would be good to see what happened to his 'mortal shell'.
Kalameet was perturbed when whatever barrier it stood in didn't dissolve, the copies still standing, stone faced and blank, a black mist began to pool underneath the charred husk, Kalameet felt the smallest amount of dread burrow into its chest as the husk stood up, releasing a hoarse sigh, like the final splutter of air escaping its completely not-there lips.
The darkness began to flood a good section of the barrier, all the protected humans bellow were looking up at the purple cage with awe, the Demi-Gods had gathered a battalion of Silver Knights with Dragon Slayer Greatbows, lining the catwalk from the Bonfire to the keep, Golden Sentinels placed in between each Knight to phalanx should the need arise.
Ornstein, Gough and Ciaran, along with Flame God Flann stood at the ready to render the dragon to dust the second the barrier went down, "That black area...What do you think happened there Ornstein?" Asked Flann, curiously. Having not the foggiest.
"When it comes to Magic I am sorely unstudious, my Lord." Replied the Dragonslayer with a bow of his head.
"The Dark..." Whispered Ciaran, to the golden plated man, Ornstein nodded unnoticeably to the woman, Sif barked happily at the black blot. "What do you know that we don't hmm?" She asked with curiosity, the wolf panted and scratched her ear before barking again. "Tsk, children."
Menma's body was coated in the darkness, the husk rose to its feet, arms limp at its side the head lolled off to the side, the darkness leapt from the walls and stuck to the husk, slowly but surely it was wrapped in a cocoon of Dark, it was sucked into the skin of the Dark Lord, he was revealed, cracking his jaw and looking up at the dragon with a murderous gaze.
Menma's body had changed, a pair of horns rose from his temples, they were set at a right angle and had jagged patterns of red and gold down the underside, the point ended at about level to his chin, the markings around his face had changed, removing the whisker-like marks entirely, in place of them were thick lines on the underside of each eye and pointed lines running from under each eye, including his third, his two normals eyes had lines that fell to his jawline, and the one from his third ended on the ridge of his nose, his upper canines poked out of his lips and onto his bottom adding a little extra ferocity to the dark look he bore.
With his torso exposed the way it was all could see his wings were naught but skeletal frames that had been moved down to his waist, with a sharp breath dark flesh was breathed back into them, in place of scales of feathers was solidified Dark looking like black cloth with bones instead of proper wings.
Menma's red eyes had becoming a bright saffron yellow with thick lines of burning orange around the pupil, Menma produced a large black encrusted soul before devouring it, his sharp teeth chewing through the essence of life easily, a ring formed around him, dark blue in colour, he held a hand out and summoned his Claymore from the seal on his palm, the darkness seeped into the blade turning a lightsucking ebony with a wicked hook at the tip of the blade, the guard went from a simple cross to an X shape. Leveling the blade at the beast he pulled Quela, forcibly, from her sheath and forced her attention.
"Ugh...That power of yours...It does things only a husband should do." She chastised, her voice sounding breathy and flustered, Menma wouldn't grinned if he wasn't so furious. That dragon had managed to reduce him to such a pathetic mess, that wouldn't stand.
"Release." Ordered Menma, Chaos began to ooze from the blade and forge armour on his left arm, instead of the usual spikey mess it ironed out to be smooth, still releasing blue sparks but coloured like the abyss instead of fiery orange/blue, the blade extended and oozed lava onto the 'ground'.
Leaping forward he vanished into a blur of trailing black, Kalameet breathed a wave of flames once more only to feel something pierce its neck, it howled as the hooked end of the Dark Clawmore dug into its throat tearing a large hole, black blood dribbling from the wound, with a vertical strike Menma sent an arc of blue/orange fire down the dragons back, it howled in agony but bit into his foot and tossed him back to the opposite end, charging after him, Menma righted himself in the air and with a mighty flap of his wings shot towards the beast with a harsh knee to the chin Kalameet was left wide open, a flurry of strikes, every second swing creating an arc of chaotic flame, began to chew into the dragons hide, the sight of a possibly demonic entity slashing the shit out of a dragon in a cage of its own creation sent tremors through the populace.
Many didn't know what to think, "Mama, is that man another God?" Asked a child, curious to the horned, winged man and his big purple box.
Several people heard the question and chattered amongst themselves, "Why isn't Lord Flann doing anything to help?" Questioned another person, only to be hushed sharply by others around him.
"Don't say something like that fool, do you know what he could do to you?!" Harshly whispered someone aside him. Many knew of the God's low opinion of humans, but each and every person felt something stir in their very souls at the sight of this new man, at the sensation he made them all feel.
Menma sealed the Clawmore and thrust his hand forth, with it came orbs of black that formed into spiked messes, like the head of a rather vicious mace, these orbs dug into Kalameet's flesh, he made a crushing motion and they all exploded into a great swathe of darkness, the dragon's roar of pitiful pain all that escaped the prison of purple.
Placing Quela in both hands the Dark Lord drew the swing back and allowed the Chaos to flood into the blade with a wide sweeping stroke Menma released a Mekkakyu sized wave of fire, Kalameet, somehow still in one piece, responded in equal measure with another wave of black flame, it was a loosing battle but Menma never liked to half do things, sheathing Quela he leapt through a black corridor of darkness and appeared behind the dragon, grabbing its tail and with a powerful pull, ceased the flow of flames, distracted it and in doing so allowed the beast to be consumed.
All that remained of Kalameet was another sword, Obsidian Great Sword. Informed Orange, Menma sealed the blade away, strength of the dragon joining his own, with a shake of the head Menma dismissed the clones, the sealing chamber falling away as he took a slow flight over the populace, cheers broke out, hollers of the 'Horned God's' victory, he wouldn't deny it felt good to be exalted in such a way. Landing on near the familiar Demi-gods he was onset by spears at the throat, swords at his waist and a rather ominous halberd hanging above his head.
Flann had his arms crossed, a frown marring his face, he knew that aura even if he couldn't tell from sight alone. "You'll be coming with me, Dark Lord." Menma's grin met the 'Flame God's' scowl.
"You are aware I could kill you before you could blink, yes? Do you really wanna start this? Flanny-boy?" Ciaran's blue eyes gave him a piercing look, Ornstein shaking his head, Gough was being Gough, Sif however, pushed her way through the crowd and sat at his feet, looking up at him expectantly.
"Why hello sweetheart, were you worried?" He asked, his wings flaring a little so he could crouch down, ignoring the arms pointed at him and pat the pup with a smile.
"Take this seriously!" Commanded Flann with a screech, unintentionally breaking his aloof scowl.
"Why? The worst you lot can do to me is hope I stay down when you stab me enough. I just killed a big fuckoff dragon and you wanna put me in chains because this wanker tells you too?" Asked Menma, looking at the Silver Knights around him, "Who do you serve, sir?" He asked one, the others slightly offput by the sudden direction.
"The Line of Lord Gwyn. Our Sovereign Leader." Said the Knight, Menma nodded.
"As I would expect, but you..." He pointed to another knight, "Flann isn't of the bloodline is he?"
"He is our princesses betrothed." Informed the Knight, Flann saw where this was going when the smug grin grew back onto the Dark Lord's face.
"Well, Princess? Am I to be punished for helping your beautiful city?" He asked, turning on his heel and looking up at Gwynevere, who had Gwyndolin at her side she was smiling at the gathered Knights, who immediately stood to attention.
"He beat up that dragon." Observed Gwyndolin, Menma's smile lit a warmth in the little girls chest, she didn't expect such a kind expression from the 'Dark One' that she heard the elders talk about when she was younger, "I like him." Gwynevere looked at her sister with an amused smile on her face.
"Truly? To earn the affection of a princess is high praise indeed, and of the common folk too. I believe this man should be exonerated, not bound in chains. Would you join us for a time, Dark Lord?" Menma placed a hand on his chest and bowed slightly.
"I'd be honoured, your Majesty."
End Of Chapter
Imagine Menma's horns like Ichigo's hollow form, but a bit smaller.
R&R
Raxychaz!